


can't keep my eyes off of you

by loserlesbian



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, During the 27 Years (IT), M/M, POV Richie Tozier, Pre-IT Chapter Two (2019), Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, based off a fanart, but they dont really meet each other, it's about the yearning, like it's not happy at all haha, richies depressed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loserlesbian/pseuds/loserlesbian
Summary: "When he rights his glasses, allowing the world to become clear again, he checks the entrance of the convention center, and that’s when he sees it.Or, him, more like."Richie sees Eddie across the lobby of a convention center, and he yearns.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	can't keep my eyes off of you

**Author's Note:**

> hello! first i wanted to say that i know that you're mostly not going to perform a live comedy show at a convention center, but i wrote this at 2 am and i didn't know where else both of the boys would be at the same time so...... just go with it. 
> 
> second, this is, like, sad. like richie is very sad. i'd call it 'slight angst' i guess. idk what else to say here dude you clicked on this, you've been warned. don't worry though cause once they return to derry they both make it out alive and get married (yes this is canon what are you talking about?)
> 
> lastly, please check out this [amazing, yet slightly painful artwork](https://eggocrumbs.tumblr.com/post/621285777765203968/what-do-you-mean-you-know-him-cmon-richie) that inspired this fic. i saw it, blacked out, and when i came to less than an hour later, this was in my google drive. 
> 
> the title is taken from the song "you and me" by lifehouse

The convention center was crowded.

Richie stood at the back of the lobby, watching the dozens of people, many in businesses suits and ties, pass by. Chatting incessantly, to each other or on phone calls, voices molding together to make one loud never-ending bubble of noise. It kind of makes Richie’s head hurt. Though, that could be the hangover. Whatever, the noise doesn’t help.

God, where the fuck was Steve? He was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago to scope out the place, to make sure it was a suitable venue to add to the list of “Places That’ll Take Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier For His Upcoming Tour.” The list so far wasn’t very long.

Today seems like the worst possible fucking day to even do this. Clearly, there’s some kind of business convention being held here for the week or some shit, Richie didn’t know, so it was fucking busy as hell. Really, had Steve even looked into this place at all? He was supposed to be his manager for God's sake.

Richie slides his hand under his glasses and presses his thumb and forefinger onto his closed eyes. Fuck.

When he rights his glasses, allowing the world to become clear again, he checks the entrance of the convention center, and that’s when he sees it.

Or, _him_ , more like.

There, yapping on the phone like an angry chihuahua, was a man. A man who, Richie thinks to himself, really does resemble a chihuahua in human form. He was short and compact, neat brown hair gelled to perfection. His thick eyebrows were bunched so close together that they could’ve been one, forehead creased in a way that made Richie want to press his thumb there and smooth out the wrinkles.

But, the thing that makes Richie's breath catch is his eyes. 

The man has these wide, deep brown eyes. Large, almost too big for his face. Like a cartoon character. They were a dark brown, dark enough that his pupils disappeared in the brown. Doe eyes, Bambi eyes. Gorgeous eyes that have Richie weak in the knees. 

Looking at this man across the room, Richie feels this deep sinking feeling in his stomach. An overwhelming feeling of longing took over, a longing that didn’t feel unfamiliar to him. Odd, considering Richie has no recollection of yearning for anyone ever, in his life. He wouldn’t let himself, it was too dangerous. 

The feeling was strange, almost foreign. It threatened to consume him, it was so intense, this feeling. It was like he _knew_ this man, like he had known him in another life. There was this thing inside him, a monster, growing the longer he stared at him, growling and baring its teeth, urging him to snag his attention. Making him look at Richie, roll his eyes, call him an asshole, dumbass, dickwad, _anything_ as long as he was paying attention to Richie. 

Desire floods his body, crawling up his throat, choking him. Richie _wanted_ , he _wanted so fucking bad_.

Who is this guy? 

Angry Chihuahua Man (Richie wishes he knew his name, he can feel it at the tip of his tongue, what was it? Eric? Evan? Ed–) appears to get redder as the conversation he was taking part in over the phone progresses. Richie laughs silently to himself, like he’s not even surprised that he was bitching about something to someone. 

He was pacing. Back and forth, one hand making a chopping motion through the air, as if the person on the other side of the line could see him. Richie yearns to be on the receiving end of that rant.

He knows this man. Why does he know this man? Why does he want to stare at him for the rest of his life, argue with him every single day, joke with him, hold his hand, be with him forever and ever? 

Angry Chihuahua Man turns and faces Richie’s direction, alluring eyes locking with Richie’s less entrancing ones. His heart soars right out of his body.

He stops mid rant, and if Richie didn’t know what ‘Bambi eyes’ meant before, he sure as fuck knows now. 

The man licks his lips. Richie swallows.

“Richie!”

Steve’s voice breaks through Richie’s reverie. He tears his eyes away to see Steve pushing through the crowd of people, holding two Starbucks cups in his hands. Fuckin’ finally. Steve makes it over to where Richie was cowering in the corner, and shoves a cup in his hands.

“Sorry, man, I didn’t realize there was a fucking convention here this week, traffic was fucking horrible.”

Richie hums, not really registering Steve’s excuse. He mindlessly took a sip of the overly sweet iced coffee, and cast his eyes back where Angry Chihuahua Man is standing. 

Or, was standing. He’s gone. 

“Rich? Do you hear me?” 

Richie looks around in the swarm of people, trying to catch a final glimpse of the man who made his heart race like a fuckin’ school girl. It was no use. It was like the man had never been here.

“I know him.”

“What?” 

Richie turns to Steve. “There was a man. Just,” He points to where the man had been standing. “There.”

“Okay? So?”

“I know him.” Richie keeps his eyes firmly where Shortstack had been just moments before. Emptiness floods veins.

“What do you mean ‘you know him’? We don’t have time for this shit, Rich, we’re late to meet with the guy who owns the place. C’mon.”

Steve grips Richie’s arm, tugging him away. Slowly, as they move through the throng of people, Richie begins to forget the face of the man he saw across the convention lobby. Any recognition he felt before dissipated, the ache he felt deep in his bones faded, until it was nothing but a vague memory. 

The guy was gone, and so was the feeling of longing, the craving to feel the man’s skin against his, the pounding hunger to taste him. Sudden sadness spread through his body, a hollow feeling, a feeling of loneliness and desolation. 

Richie forgot the strangely familiar man, and with that forgetfulness, he also lost something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. But, fuck, it sure hurt like hell.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on [tumblr](https://all-dead-rock-show.tumblr.com/) and if you want to see more art by the artist who made the one that inspired this go [here!](https://eggocrumbs.tumblr.com/) thank you for reading!


End file.
